Breaking Point
by StreakingHerculobus
Summary: Hermione is on the wrong side of the war with Grindelwald. Captured by the West and temporarily flung into Azkaban, she finds herself under the scrutiny of Dumbledore and a curious Tom Riddle. But Harry Potter is in the distance, promising salvation, if she could just avoid being pushed to the breaking point.
1. Chapter 1

Inspired by a story of **ryn-and-ras**. if you like my story stop and go read theirs first. And make sure to review! They do a great job. And certainly deserve it. I mean its the best harry potter story i've ever read, possibly the best fanfiction. It's called Temperance and the Tower.

Go now! And review. Also harry Potter will be involved in my story. it's AU so...I can do what I like!

* * *

Red mixed with violet. The pot began to boil, heightening her anticipation. Hermione stirred the concoction with sinister precision eager for the final result. Her frayed robes, commonly worn and rarely washed, cut off at her knees, revealing skin tight leggings with purple and black stripes. All she needed was a pointy hat and a longer nose to match the muggle stereotype.

She had been preparing for months. Her hard work was about to pay off with the completion of this absolutely felonious brew.

Nothing could stop her now. Perhaps the muggles were on her doorstep. (And dreadful muggles they were; their leader made dark wizards look like kittens). And perhaps her uncle was losing momentum. But here in this house on the fifth of September she was about to make history.

Just one more minute. The timing had to be perfect. Hermione glanced at the protected door. She had no reason to believe she would be interrupted. Yet her paranoia insisted, a byproduct of the war. _And she fought on so many different fronts._

(If only she could do stuff like this for the rest of her life, referring to the books scattered across the room, she would be happy. The rest of the world didn't interest her.)

The last ingredient hovered above the potion and she was counting down the seconds when a loud bang shook the walls. Her head whipped around in time to see the dust clearing from the gunshot. The Panzerbusche 38 had made short work of the intruder.

But they were bound to be others. Hermione regretted leaving her partially completed experiment but self-preservation won out. Intending to gather her things, her heart stopped beating at the sight of the pot which met her. During the commotion she had accidentally dropped her wand. It was supposed to be the final addition and she didn't know if her aim had been correct.

Nevertheless, with the enemy at the door, she didn't have a choice. She quickly swallowed a spoonful and then hurried towards the emergency exit.

They breached the house as soon as her feet hit the snow, making tracks across the winter wasteland. She ignored the voice in the back of her head asking her if it had been wise to taste the potion.

They busted down the wall and her suspicions were confirmed. Their wizardly costumes gave them away. Dumbledore's forces had come. But what did that mean for Grindelwald?

She heard the sloshing of their boots behind her. She reached inside the pocket of her cloak and pulled out a pistol. She clumsily fired in their direction not bothering to slow down.

Naturally they ducked for cover but the chase was resumed with all speed.

They were four of them on her tail. Hermione recognized the situation for what it was. She couldn't run forever, so that left only one dismal option. Pressing her back against a tree she calmed down enough to focus. She fired a warning shot, making them keep their distance. She had four bullets left. Her chances of escape dwindled the longer she made her stand.

Hermione was slightly relieved by the knowledge that they must be part of the resistance. Otherwise she would have heard the Unforgivable curses by now. And she hoped they didn't take the loss of their friend too hard should she be captured. She happened to know that the Vorherrschaft would be much less forgiving.

She thought it wise to fire another shot when a rustle to her left grabbed her attention. Before she had the time to swing her gun around it was too late. The dark figure had already gotten the spell off and she knew no more.

* * *

"What is your name? How old are you? What were you doing in that house? Who were your parents?" The endless questioning! Hermione wanted to stop up her ears or better yet cut them off. The interrogators evidently could tell because they paused, unable to conceal their confusion when Hermione sank down into her chair and started to chant in German. Her eyes were firmly shut against the light of her surroundings. She wanted to pretend that none of this was happening. When she opened her eyes her home would greet her along with a special cauldron which housed the culmination of her entire life. But no, there was only two angry wizards staring down at her in the middle of a cold dungeon.

"What is she saying?" one of the men asked. Another shook his head. "I thought she would at least speak English." He banged his fist down on the table, causing Hermione to jump. "What are you mumbling about!"

"Gehen Spiel im Verkehr!"

The main wizard sighed. His droopy face sported a tired expression. He had been tracking down enemy witches and wizards for months without a break. "Get Koontz in here. I've had enough with the language barrier."

"I can speak English perfectly well, thank you," Hermione replied primly. "Along with French, Latin, Greek, and Dutch." She reached up and patted the side of her frizzled brown hair, always so uncontrollable. She looked eerily deranged, with bags under her eyes and a ghostly complexion.

"Very impressive," he tried in a gentle voice. "My name is Gerrywinkle. What is yours?" He folded his hands together in a patient manner. Underneath he was growing weary of her refusal to cooperate.

Hermione studied him closely. "You already know my name. Why do you ask questions you know the answer to?"

Gerrywinkle started. She was good. Very good. He exchanged a cautious glance with his colleague and then continued, "Alright, Miss Granger. It is true we know a little bit about you from what some of the other criminals have told us. Such as you're related to Grindelwald. And you spent the majority of the war researching. Your parents are dead. And that you have dabbled in the dark arts." He took a deep breath. "What we don't know is where you stand. Your barbaric trap resulted in the death of one of our members. Seriously, why would a witch of your caliber resort to such a muggle means of destruction?"

Hermione smiled. "Because that's exactly what you wouldn't expect. The bullet can travel close to the speed of sound. I find it's remarkably more useful and effective than a hex."

"Yes," he grumbled. "Well, it's not very helpful to your case."

"Would you prefer I be casting killing curses left and right? I thought you western wizards looked down on that kind of thing. Personally I don't see the big deal. They are some of the most fascinating spells in existence, invented by geniuses. If I remember correctly, it was only until the early eighteenth century that they were outlawed."

"That's enough, Granger. Or should I call you Grindelwald with the way you've been speaking? We know that you're intelligent. Other wizards we interrogated told us as much. But what they couldn't explain is why Grindelwald kept you in the shadows. Evidently you're some kind of scientist?"

Hermione almost blushed. "That's true. I consider myself a scientist. I only want to learn more about magic. I couldn't care less about dueling or the muggles or my uncle's beliefs. You can use Legilimency if you want. You won't find anything useful. Grindelwald kept me out of the loop. And you'll also find that I don't mean any harm towards you. The booby trap was more of a deterrent against the Nazis."

"Is that so? Gerrywinkle said slowly. "Then we'll take you up on your offer. Depending on what we find, your sentence may be reduced to a few years or so, at least until we put this Grindelwald business behind us." Preparing to do the spell, the ancient wizard patted himself on the back. It had gone easier than he thought.

Hermione nodded, on the surface seemingly okay with the news about her certain imprisonment. But underneath she fumed over the years which were about to be stolen from her, years that she could spend doing more research. Plus there was the little known fact that Grindelwald would probably come looking for her.

"Legilimens."

_He was a wizard but he would die a muggle death. Hermione, five years old, laid under the bed and watched the thieves shoot her father down and then turn on her mother. She had rushed over to her husband, bawling, unable to stop the bleeding from the multiple gunshot wounds. _

_"__Your turn," their leader said. "Or perhaps my men would like some fun?" The other masked men who formed the perimeter around the room chuckled. "But unfortunately we do not have the time. So this will have to do." He raised his weapon and fired. _

_Hermione almost shrieked as her mother collapsed to the floor with a thud. Blood was sprayed across the carpet. She bit her tongue hard, trying her best not to break down crying. Her father begged her to not be discovered. His last request. _

_X_

_"__Child, I am sorry for your loss." A younger Grindelwald stood before her at the doorstep. He looked like the ultimate specimen for the master race. "It was unfortunate, what happened to your parents." He drew a deep breath and said, seemingly nervous, "I am here to offer you chance to live with me on my estate. You are a very talented girl, I can sense it. One day we might even work together."_

_With no home to speak of, Hermione could only nod. _

_X_

_They were staying at her cabin. Grindelwald and his inner circle. Earlier he had inquired as to her progress and her answer satisfied him. She always pleased him. It was the least she could do. _

_Today they had a prisoner. A half-blood the poor fellow wouldn't last until dinner. Hermione focused on the queasy feeling in her stomach. What they were doing was no better than what those men did who killed her parents. Yet a quarter blood herself, she was lucky that Grindelwald never afflicted her. _

"I think that's enough for now." On most occasions the use of Legilimency was quite a tenuous experience for the victim, but since she had been so cooperative the effects were minimum. If anything she looked more disturbed by the unpleasant memories he had resurrected.

The Auror left the room and Hermione was left alone for a few moments. She wiped a figurative bead of sweat from her forehead. She had manipulated the Legilimency well so as to not reveal her most precious secret.

She played with the warded chains which confined her to the chair. This wasn't where she pictured herself though she always knew it was a possibility. The West caught up to her but at least it wasn't the Nazis.

She didn't agree with Grindelwald's beliefs, but she couldn't refuse his hospitality. He had provided so much over the years. Protection. A roof over her head. An occupation. She wouldn't betray him.

The Auror returned and she sensed that their meeting was wrapping up.

"There's really no more to discuss. You'll be transported to Azkaban with a port key where your sentence will be carried out until the war is over. At that time you will be tried by the Wizengamot."

Hermione nodded solemnly. She considered the prospect of resistance but she didn't have a clue how to activate her wand. The Auror still assumed she had left it behind in Germany.

"My stuff," Hermione pronounced. "Did you retrieve it?" She sounded more vulnerable with this one inquiry than she had during the entire interrogation.

"Yes," Gerrywinkle replied. "But I'm afraid you won't have much use for it where you're going. But it will be kept in a safe place. I assume you are talking about your notes and textbooks?"

"Quite."

"You're a very smart girl, Hermione. We are tempted to get you to translate some of your coded material, but as long as they're not intel, we don't have the time or resources for a prolonged extraction."

For this Hermione was extremely grateful. A particular page, which took her days to code and would take weeks to decipher, would spoil the illusion of her insignificance and reveal the location of Grindelwald's most prized possession.

Gerrywinkle watched Hermione be escorted out with another wizard where she would be transported to the British prison for wizards. He wondered if there would be anything left of her in a couple of years. Azkaban tortured the strongest of wizards insane while Granger, if his hunch was correct, was already a little off her rocker. She was entirely too calm to be facing such a fate.

* * *

"Expecto Patronum, " Hermione tried for the millionth time. Nothing happened. Sometimes a prisoner would hear her and they would laugh. Hermione laughed with them though in a delirious manner. If this kept up, then her experiment was a failure after all.

In the beginning she was relatively confident that her wand would activate as it should. Whether it would appear in her hand or operate from somewhere inside her, she didn't know, but something should have happened by now.

No obvious side effects yet no obvious results. Hermione would be content with a few ill symptoms if just to indicate that she had gotten somewhere with her experiment. But so far the evidence pointed toward the possibility that her entire work had been laid on the wrong foundation. Grindelwald, she realized, would not be happy.

The dementors took quick advantage of her sudden tide of negative thoughts, feeding off her feelings of inadequacy. They always knew when to show up, when she was feeling her lowest. She wasn't a very cheerful girl to begin with. Here in Azkaban all of her energy was being drained away. The past was fading. Her research, the pride of her life, especially started to diminish in her mind. The thought of new discoveries used to cause a flutter in her heart. Now there was nothing but a complacent pulse, declining in strength every day

Wait. She hadn't stopped to consider that she doesn't know how to cast the Patronus Charm. She was well aware that just saying the words to a spell doesn't automatically execute it.

She decided to try a spell she did know when another dementor appeared. No doubt they had sensed the surge in her optimism which was absolutely unacceptable for Azkaban. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the dying screams of her mother. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Clouds. All around. She was floating in the sky. The silkiness. A puffy bed. For the first time in months Hermione genuinely smiled. She rested in peace. No worries to distract her. No war. No experiments. Just solitude and serenity.

A loud bang caused her to jump. She quickly sat up and scavenged her surroundings for the source of the disturbance. Another bang and suddenly she was falling from the heavens. She plummeted to earth, and the weightlessness she had felt was gone. The world was dragging her down, burdening her with all of its problems.

Then she hit the ground. An intake of breath as her body crumpled in the crater it made. Then her lungs refused to work. Pain all over. Her spine was shattered. She knew the agony produced by the Crucio curse. She had tried one on herself. And this exceeded even that. While the Crucio caused throbbing from within, this was from without. A trauma induced pain that made her see only white. In that moment all that existed was her erupting senses.

Her eyes retreated into the back of her head and she began to quake. Her back arched into the air and a haunting scream elicited from her quivering lips.

_Make it stop!_

And suddenly it was over. She found herself in the cell in Azkaban. She couldn't move. Her body was on its side on the floor. She couldn't speak. She could only study the dirty concrete wall, waiting for the terrible ache to subside, or if not that then her death, for death would be preferable to one more week inside this place.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore picked up his pace. The guard beside him as well. When they saw where Granger threw herself against the wall, they feared the worst. She wasn't getting up and there were violent tremors racking her limbs.

What kind of attack was she suffering? Dumbledore was thankful he hadn't delayed in seeing to Miss Granger-Grindelwald, the utter enigma in the war. She needed help and fast.

* * *

They rushed Hermione to the hospital after Dumbledore had performed a couple minor healing spells. He was concerned about possible trauma to the brain, which magic could do little to help.

The nurses immediately realized the emergency and significance of the patient when the old wizard himself escorted her into the hallways. "Take care of her," he boomed. "She's to be your priority." He turned to go, but thought it wise to add one last thing. "And be warned. She's dangerous."

The nurses were understandably not reassured by his words. Nonetheless they placed her on the gurney and stripped her soiled clothes. She was truly a train wreck. They had rarely seen a person in such poor shape.

A gasp alerted the other two professionals to what a tall curly haired woman had discovered on the patient's back. Etched in her skin was a circular symbol, complicated in its design, clearly of magical significance, which stretched from rib to rib and all the way to the ends of her spine.

"What in the world?" the nurse whispered in disbelief. "What does it mean?" They were suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread and they fully comprehended what Dumbledore meant when he said that she was dangerous.

_What was happening to her? She was very aware of what had occurred in that cell just recently. Currently she must be in a comatose state, and she intended for it to stay that way. It was preferable to waking up to a dementor. So she was left alone with her thoughts, not as disjointed as one might expect. _

_She smiled, or at least her coma-self did. She did have her intelligence to thank for the clear head despite whatever her body and mind went through. _

_It was definitely no dementor attack. They can't inspire positive feelings like those in the beginning of the dream. Though she reckoned that one might have come by when she was sleeping and ruined the peace. However, that didn't explain the physical injuries which were so very real when she woke up. Not as intense as those in the dream they hurt beyond belief nonetheless. In fact she imagined that if she did not receive treatment soon, she would die here in Azkaban. _

_It was a funny thought, because whoever came by her cell in say, ten or twenty years, would find one of the most valuable wizarding artifacts. She's happy to think that she should pass away, she'd leave something behind for the rest of the world to use and reap the benefits. Assuming it landed in the right hands of course. _

_Like Harry's. But that was unlikely and off the topic. _

_"__Wake up, sweetie." _

_What was that? A voice?_

_"__it's probably no use. The coma could last another few days to a lifetime." _

_Of course! She had read about people in comas who could hear what was going on around them. These people did not sound like dementors. And she couldn't feel their presence within a few hundred feet. Did that mean she wasn't at Azkaban?_

_"__Well, I am somewhat comforted by the fact that there is no reason she can't awaken," an wise and gentle voice replied. _

_The female one continued, "Perhaps it is up to her now, whether she wants to wake up or not. From what you told me I wouldn't be surprised if…(she let the rest go unspoken but Hermione understood what she was implying.) _

_She wasn't weak-willed! She didn't fear reality. Or her enemies. (Though to be honest she did fear the pain. More than anything.) Pain that possibly awaited her outside. _

_"__If she truly does possess Grindelwald's blood, she will not be content to stay locked inside her mind. She'll find her way out." _

_Hermione wondered how this sagely old man could know so much about her. For he was correct. She wasn't about to remain here. So like rising from the crisp ocean her mind soared to consciousness where she took her first amazing deep breath. _

"Oh my, she's awake!"

A nurse busied herself at her bedside. A rather comfortable bed she might add. And the lights. This definitely wasn't Azkaban. It looked more like a hospital . "Wh-where am I?"

The man on the other side smiled. He looked familiar. "St. Mungo's. You gave me a bit of a scare, Ms. Granger. I thought I had been too late."

He must be referring to the incident in the cell. She wondered what it must have looked like to outsiders.

"Do you mind telling me your side of the story? Or do you even know what I'm talking about?"

That was the last thing Hermione wanted to talk about. She jerkily shook her head and voiced unusually loud, "Anything but that!" After all she hadn't figured it out for herself.

Dumbledore was understanding. "That's fine. If you feel uncomfortable anytime during this interview, please say so." He patted the bed. "Now you're not a suspect. I have actually received confirmation from a very reliable source that you know nothing and haven't been involved in the combat side of the war. That's very good news for you, Miss Granger. A lot of the guilt can be absolved."

Hermione nodded, liking where this was headed. As long as it wasn't Azkaban, she'd be content.

"There are one or two question I need to ask you." He eyed her warily, looking for any sign that she might try to deceive him.

"Shoot," she said, unconcerned.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "First where is the Elder Wand?"

"Hmph." Hermione smiled mockingly. On the inside she freaked. Dumbledore didn't fool around. "Why would I know that? And even if I did, I'm not obliged to share it with you. I possess a degree of loyalty to Grindelwald after all for everything he's done for me."

Dumbledore shrugged. "I could have you thrown back into Azkaban."

Hermione's confidence slipped, but Dumbledore was there to rescue her out of the kindness of his heart. "But I'm not going to threaten you with that. Or threaten you at all for that matter. In fact I'm here to do you a favor." He leaned back in his chair. "Since you're not keen on answering my first question, then perhaps as a courtesy you can answer my second. "What is the symbol for on your back?"

Hermione's heart stopped. She had forgotten that in their care, her biggest secret was bound to be discovered. The symbol was a source of victory and humiliation. Of achievement and shame. "I-I'm afraid I can't answer that question either." Hermione didn't like the way she already felt like she had let Dumbledore down, a person she just met! He seemed to have that effect on her. Kind of like Grindelwald.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said slowly, searching for her eyes which she was too afraid to show. "I have a sketch right here. Clearly very ancient. I imagine only the creator would know how it works and what it does. There's no way for me to discern its function from mere observation." He placed a hand on his chin. "Indeed, a work of genius, don't you agree, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded absently. Usually she was the person in control, but Dumbledore had dominated the conversation from start to finish. He was so far beyond any normal human which she could usually manipulate to her advantage. But now she realized why Grindelwald considered him such a threat. He emanated confidence to such a degree that she wouldn't lift a wand against him.

Seeing that he wasn't going to get anything more out of her, Dumbledore decided to wrap it up. "Well, I just came here to inform you that you will be attending Hogwarts whenever you are recovered. I'd like to keep a closer eye on you. And this way Grindelwald will never get his hands on you again." He tsked. "Your talent is wasted on him, don't you agree?"

Actually Hermione thought that her talent was going to be wasted at Hogwarts. For she wouldn't be protesting. A school full of incompetent yuppies is preferable to where she just came from. And the library might be of interest. Perhaps she could find some books which could help solve her wand problem.

"I have it from the same reliable source that while you are very gifted with particular spells and potions, Grindelwald has largely neglected to teach you the fundamentals like Transfiguration and Healing."

"I'll go," Hermione volunteered. She finally looked him in the eye. "Just don't ask me to suddenly betray my uncle. That's all."

"That is a perfectly reasonable agreement. I think we'll get along, Miss Granger."

* * *

"Aside from the symbols I am concerned about this one particular scar," the nurse began not so smoothly.

Hermione knew what she was referring to. The word 'Mudblood' etched on her right forearm. In the beginning she wasn't as protected from Grindelwald's followers. One wanted to remind her of her place. "He was killed."

"Who?"

"The wizard who did this." Hermione grimaced. "Grindelwald does not like to be reminded." About who she was. He preferred to pretend she was fully witch. He stressed how they were related (barely) and often explained to people how anyone with an ounce of his blood was more wizard most purebloods. Otherwise in his mind he would have stooped too low to associate with the likes of her.

"I'm done for the day," Hermione said. When the nurse protested she raised her voice, "That's enough!"

The nurse understood that the mark was sore subject, so she decided to come back later to finish the checkup. They had learned in the past few days that the girl was quite volatile at times though languid at others. She seemed to go through phases. "Very well, Miss Granger. Just know we're trying to help you. We're not your enemies."

Ah, enemies. Hermione grimaced. The fools. They had never seen a battlefield in their life. She had witnessed the result of the muggle's warfare. The trenches filled with dozens of dead rotting bodies. And wizards who cast suicide curses without batting an eye. In this world, everyone was your enemy.


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, she was an interesting bundle of contradictions. She studied the dark arts, or to be more precise, the arcane. At the same time she was wholly dedicated to the light (for now). She came from a long line of muggle scientists, so her brain was quite suited towards knowledge and discovery. Quick on the uptake and very clever, she was just what he was looking for.

_X_

"I am sure you are aware that while you are very developed in some areas, you are greatly lacking in most." Severus Snape at his desk put down his pen. "Potions happens to be one of your weakest areas."

"I realize that, Professor, and I will take that into consideration when divvying my hours of studying." Hermione replied in a polite voice that belied her frustration at someone insinuating that her self-education had its faults. "At the time potions wasn't particularly useful to me-"

"Miss Granger."

She certainly offended him now. It didn't matter that she was Slytherin. She could never appease Snape. Their personalities were not compatible in the slightest.

"Are you suggesting that my subject is insignificant when it comes to the world of witchcraft and wizardry?"

She was cooked. The worst thing she could do now is to open her mouth.

"I'm just pointing out how that other disciplines were more important considering the nature of my situation."

He raised his eyebrow. "Oh, and what exactly was the nature of your situation? Were you perhaps more invested in spells related to combat? I doubt you're very interested in healing. Telling fortunes is not your type either." He leaned forward. "Tell me, Miss Granger, what sort of witch do you claim to be?"

She swallowed. "Like I said, Professor Snape, I am merely a researcher. My involvement in magic doesn't go beyond personal fascination and study."

"That's a load off," he quietly jeered to himself.

Hermione found herself annoyed by the man's constant sarcasm. "Is there anything else, Professor?" She tapped her foot impatiently. The library was calling to her. Seriously, she heard a voice in her head. It said, "_Come to me, young one."_ But it was likely her imagination. Hopefully she wasn't becoming schizophrenic.

"There is more I wanted to discuss, but congratulations, you have exhausted me." His attention returned to the papers on the desk.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had already pegged Snape for the spoiled and sheltered kid, and the man just confirmed it. Nonetheless, happy to be free of his examination, she skipped towards the exit and rounded the bend only to bump into the robes of a prefect.

Her hand automatically went to where her wand used to be, an old habit and a very good indicator of her paranoia. She was tempted to strike anyway, with a fist or something, but she imagined that it would not go over well with Dumbledore. He'd probably interpret it as more evidence she wasn't fit for civilized society.

Which may be true, she mused. Books had been her only friend during the course of her life. Most interaction with others was completely out of necessity or another venture in her schemes.

"Watch it," she snarled.

"My apologies," he raised his hands. For a second time that day, she was met with an insufferable sarcastic know-it-all jerk face.

"I've about had enough of you preppy frat boys here at Hogwarts, thinking that the earth belongs to you, blissfully unaware that there is an entirely different world outside this castle with real danger and real risk. Keep on with your delusion that everything will be swell after you graduate; you'll find a comfortable wizarding career, a witch for a wife, and lots of pureblooded children. That is, if Grindelwald doesn't reach here first, or worse: Hitler and his undead armies."

Tom Riddle was excusably at a loss for words. But pulling himself together, (he couldn't allow her the satisfaction of an undisputed victory), he replied, "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Admittedly, he sounded very childish, but honestly, what could one say next to that long abusive spiel she emitted with excellent tact and poise? Yes, he was especially intelligent, but either she was a natural wit or she possessed her fair share of intelligence as well. Which meant that the rumors were partially grounded in reality.

She sniffed and moved to walk past him, but his body once again planted itself in her way.

"What is your problem?" she barked. "Do you usually pick on the new girls or am I a unique circumstance?"

Ha! Tom Riddle saw through her feint. She was quite capable of defending herself, or so it seemed. Therefore, with the confidence of knowing how to protect herself, she would not be so easily intimidated by him in the public hallway. Even now, he wasn't sure who was picking on whom.

"Actually, I've been meaning to speak with you. I'm sure you recognize me from around Slytherin."

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't go out much, and I missed the orientation, so you must forgive me for not knowing your name and for not caring."

Tom Riddle's pleasant exterior darkened somewhat and he retorted, "You sound like the preppy sorority chick, and I'm being nice here. There is a lot better five letter word for women of your kind."

She narrowed her eyes. As far as she was concerned this conversation was over. She did an about-face and marched off in the other direction, not willing to stress herself over the blonde idiot anymore. She had more important things to worry about than silly teenage dramas.

"We'll talk again," he called out.

And with the way he said it Hermione had no doubt in her mind they would. And he'd be a lot more prepared.

But she could handles herself. She had firsthand experience with dementors. What could one student at Hogwarts do to her?


End file.
